


Meanwhile

by Raven_Kween



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Denial, F/M, Light Angst, Pining and denial, dick drawings, i guess this is my thing now, more sleeping fic, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Kween/pseuds/Raven_Kween
Summary: I sleep. I dream. I make up things that I would never say. I say them very quietly.- Richard Siken, Meanwhile
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Meanwhile

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet inspired by this lovely art by tissueboxesforseals:  
> https://tissueboxesforseals.tumblr.com/image/181593345645

“Cay-leb, where do you think the hamster unicorns go when my summoning spell wears off?”

Jester Lavorre bursts through Caleb’s door without knocking, because they’re in the Xhorhaus, why would she knock, it’s the Might Nein’s home and every room is their room, so by extension her room, and she would be lying if she didn’t also say she likes how Caleb’s eyes go wide when she surprises him, the way his shoulders tense then instantly relax once he realizes it’s her, and he smiles his just-for-her smile, his Ja-hello-Jester smile. But the question bubbles and dies in her throat, because Caleb is, shockingly, asleep. 

Jester moves closer, fascinated, softening her normally clomping steps. Caleb’s mouth is half-open and his faint snores mix with Frumpkin’s purrs to create a nice, soothing rumble. The lines of his face are relaxed, smoothed in sleep, and wow, his eyelashes are long, maybe even longer than hers, which is, like, unfair, because Caleb should not be so pretty, it should not be allowed. Jester’s stomach aches, like she’s hungry, but she ate dinner like half an hour ago. 

A piece of coppery hair falls over Caleb’s nose, moving gently in the gusts of his breath, inching closer and closer to his open mouth. Instinctively, she reaches out to brush the hair away, to tuck it safe behind his ear, out of range of his chapped lips. His breath tickles her fingers, warm and damp, and Jester freezes, suddenly afraid. Afraid that he’ll open his eyes and smile at her. Afraid that one day, he won’t wake up. 

She leaves his hair where it falls across his sharp nose, and does not ask herself why, or how, or when she...

She wants to drown these questions, to shake them from her head like a bee off a flower, and so she snatches up his chalk (drifting blue dust on his spellbook) and tears off a corner of (expensive) paper, and scrawls a little blue dick (savagely) and presses it to his shoulder (gently). 

Caleb sleeps on, but Frumpkin opens his night-bright eyes and blinks at her.  
“What are you looking at?” Jester grumbles at the cat. 

Frumpkin stares at her, then makes a tiny mlep. Jester sticks her tongue back out at him, feeling foolish, and backs towards the door. 

She pockets the chalk. Caleb will come looking for it when he wakes up.


End file.
